


The Death of Each Day's Life

by FandomTrashbag



Series: Pieces of Cake [4]
Category: Labyrinth (1986)
Genre: Attack of the Plot Bunnies, Camping, Established Relationship, F/M, I'm terrible at tagging, Insomnia, LFFL plot bunny, OCs - Freeform, Writing Prompt, fairy trees, just some fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-05-25
Updated: 2020-05-25
Packaged: 2021-03-03 03:48:34
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,828
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24368359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/FandomTrashbag/pseuds/FandomTrashbag
Summary: Sarah and her friends are on a light camping getaway when they drunkenly stumble on a wishing tree. Sarah can't be convinced to make careless wishes, knowing there could be someone on the other side... or can she?
Relationships: Jareth/Sarah Williams
Series: Pieces of Cake [4]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1772494
Comments: 13
Kudos: 119
Collections: Fluff





	The Death of Each Day's Life

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt taken from LFFL of Sarah & friends camping and drunkenly stumbling upon a fairy wishing tree. Thank you, Katie! I was originally going to go smutty with this, but decided to take it in a very fluffy direction instead. This is pulled from a current, quarantine-driven hyper-fixation on the fandom currently, and maybe a little desire for touch.
> 
> I haven't actually written for this fandom before, so please don't hate me if the dialogue is a bit OOC. I tried my best.
> 
> There's an implication of long-standing Jareth/Sarah here and the quote is William Shakespeare.

It was always so peaceful out in these woods. The trees were a bit gnarled, old; they had stories of their own if one was willing to listen. While the air wasn’t particularly cold, the flames dancing out of the pit they’d dug were a welcome warmth. Their own stories had died out quietly and the alcohol had finally stopped flowing.

It was just the three of them, having always ended up with a very small circle of friends, and it was their last night camping out. Jolie and Jared were not just one of her few friends, but her closest; despite their 10 years of marriage, Sarah never felt like a third wheel around them. The campsite wasn’t formal, just out in the middle of the woods in a nice little clearing. Jared had sleepily stood to stretch and make his way to one of the small tents, mumbling something about his sleeping bag being much more comfortable than the earthy ground he’d been dozing on. Jolie smiled lazily, slightly drunk, as he pecked the top of her head and she promised she wouldn’t be far behind.

“I have to pee first,” she said as she grabbed a lantern. “Come with me, Sarah? I need a lookout to make sure nothing starts crawling on me.”

Sarah rolled her eyes and sighed, even though she was already getting up with her own lantern in hand. She dipped her head into her own tent across the way to quickly grab a roll of toilet paper. “Let’s go, then, you wimp,” she said with a smile.

While Jared ambled off in one direction, the girls went to find a decent rock to pee against. They ended up a fair distance from the site, but not so far they couldn’t follow the fire’s glow right back.

“I don’t understand why you’re so insistent on the buddy system, here,” Sarah complained.

“You know I get freaked out easily,” Jolie mumbled from behind a shrub.

“What is there to be scared of out here?”

“Creepy woods, dead of night, drunk. What could possibly go wrong?”

Sarah laughed as Jolie stumbled her way back around the bush and they headed back towards camp.

“Oh, how cute!” she crooned, veering off a little ways with her lantern held high. “Look, Sarah! A little fairy wishing tree.”

Sarah turned and followed, raising her light slowly. Fairies were something she took a little more seriously than most people, but even she thought the tree was a little kitschy. 

A large gnarled tree stood in front of them, the width of the trunk barely fitting into their range of visible light. Two small, hand made signs were tied to the lowest branches.

“Place your hands here, count to ten, and let the fairies take your worries away,” Jolie read with minimal slurring. “What should we wish for?”

The second sign was set lower with “Wishes” carved haphazardly. Years of oils and friction had worn the wood smooth and in the shape of hand prints. Sarah felt more than a little uneasy. Fairies were one thing, wishes were something else entirely.

“We should wish for nothing and go back to camp.” Her words came out a little harsher than intended, but Jolie didn’t seem to take offence.

“Don’t be a party pooper, Sarah,” Jolie grumbled as she walked closer to the tree. “It’s just a bit of fun. It’s not like fairies are real.” She set down her lamp and walked up to the tree, leaning forward and placing her dark hands against the wood panel. “I wish…” she paused a little longer than was necessary, perhaps trying not to doze off. After a moment, she leveled her gaze at Sarah and said very seriously, “I wish that I wasn’t going to have the hangover from hell in the morning.”

For just a second, Sarah’s heart had missed a beat. Then she sighed heavily and rolled her eyes. Stepping forward to grab her friend’s arm and guide her over the raised roots back to camp. Jolie said nothing, but began to giggle uncontrollably all the way back to camp.

“I think it’s bedtime for you. Let’s go,” Sarah mumbled, starting to sober.

“You should have made a wish,” Jolie said as she unzipped her tent and Sarah helped her to not trip over Jared’s sleeping body.

“No wishes for me, thanks. I’ll take care of the fire.” She zipped the tent after her friend laid down and mumbled to the treeline, “You never know who’s listening.”

Sarah shook herself bodily in an attempt to rid herself of the unease that had settled between her shoulders. It was dumb, really; there was nothing to be worried over when it came to wishing for no hangovers. The fairies she knew were necessarily in that line of business, anyways. Still, she couldn’t help feeling just a little bit queasy as she shuffled piles of dirt into their pit with her feet.

As she settled into her own tent and her own pile of blankets and pillows, she realized she was in for another sleepless night; insomnia had become a regular companion for her. Maybe she shouldn’t have snuffed the fire just yet. Then she could have sat under the stars and let the fire lull her back into fatigue. After almost an hour of listlessly feigning sleep and listening to Jared’s snores, Sarah huffed and slid on her flip flops, grabbing her little lantern and she climbed out of her tent.

 _Fine,_ she thought ruefully. _I’ll play._

She walked back out into the trees, glancing back once to make sure she hadn’t woken either of her friends. If anything happened, she wasn’t sure she couldn’t explain it off on drunkenness. It took her a few minutes, but she managed to stumble back in the dark towards that big, old tree and just stood facing it. Her face was a determined line, like she was ready to square off with the threatening plant.

“This… is ridiculous,” she said to no one.

She took a deep breath and walked up, she slid her left hand into the worn handprint, holding her lantern with her right. Her breath came out in a puff as she said flatly, “I wish I could just go to sleep.” She closed her eyes for a second, bracing herself for something to happen. After several minutes, she felt decidedly silly.

“Not every homemade fairy sign means magic,” she said softly as she started to step away.

“That may be true, but as you said, you never know who might be listening.” 

The smooth voice came from somewhere behind her in the dark and she jumped out of her skin, spinning towards the sound in mid air. Her sandal caught on a root and she started to go down. Just before her butt hit the hard ground, a leather-clad hand clamped over her left wrist and stopped her downward momentum. As quickly as she had started falling, she was pulled up right, and she immediately started swinging her lantern blindly.

“Would you desist! You are in no danger,” the voice growled in irritation.

She took a few heaving breaths to calm herself and held her lantern up near her head, her arm extended.

Now leaning against the old tree, and looking rather annoyed, was a casually dressed Goblin King.

“Are you quite done?” he said, crossing his arms.

She blinked a couple times and shook her head to make sure she wasn’t just seeing things. “Wh… What?” she managed.

“I do hope you’re quite finished flailing that light around. You could hurt someone with that behavior.”

“Well, excuse me for not being more welcoming to strangers grabbing me in a dark forest,” she bit out.

He rolled his eyes and pushed off the tree with his shoulder. “I’m hardly a stranger, Sarah.”

“Yeah? You’re no more welcome than one,” she mumbled as she regained her composure.

“What was that?” he asked, leaning in towards her, invading her space.

She simply glared at him. “I said, what are you doing here?” She lowered her lamp, but only slightly, turning it up to shine a bit brighter and bring him more fully into view.

His arms unfolded and his fists settled on his hips, the look on his face was incredulous. “You called for help, and here I am.”

She scoffed. “Since when have you ever been the helpful type?”

The brief flinch of his eyes did not go unnoticed, but she stood her ground, puffing herself up just a little. She took a moment to actually look at him and realized she’d never quite seen him so dressed down. He was in all black, blending seamlessly with the dark of the woods: an open linen shirt tucked into high fall-front breeches and flat boots. She could just see the glint of his pendant peaking between the folds of his shirt against his chest.

“You sting, Sarah. I’m known to be rather generous from time to time. I’ve tried explaining that before. Now,” he began before she could argue his last point, “I do believe you requested assistance with sleeping.”

She opened her mouth, then closed it. “It… I mean, sure, but I feel like that isn’t really something _you_ could help me with.”

“Well, now,” he said a little breathily, “there is where you’re wrong.” He gently plucked the lantern from her hand and turned her bodily back towards the camp. With a hand just barely touching the small of her back, he nudged her forward, taking care that she tripped over no more roots.

“Really,” she stuttered nervously as they shuffled towards the edge of the wood. “I’m not sure your brand of _assistance_ is what I’m looking for.”

He laughed softly as they walked toward her tent. “I have a _wide_ range of skills, precious.” He leaned past her to unzip the tent flap, which put his face next to hers. He turned just slightly to whisper low in her ear. “Perhaps you’d like to sample a few of them before the night is through?”

She shivered just a little, and not because of the chill in the air. Suddenly, she felt quite warm. Quick as she could, she ducked into her polyester shelter and slid back into her mussed pile of blankets. “I’m only looking for one thing, Goblin King--”

“My, _my_ . If only I had known. I assure you, I perform _very_ well under… _pressure_.” He looked at her darkly as he closed the flap and set down her lantern. The light was dimmed and their shadows became less pronounced as they danced around the walls.

Silently, Sarah really hoped Jared and Jolie were hard sleepers. She met his twinkling eyes and finished the thought he’d so graciously interrupted. “And that is a good. Night’s. Sleep.” She punctuated her words clearly, trying more to convince herself than him, she knew.

Pushing 35, her sleepless nights had been a constant companion for nearly 20 years. Her love life had been lackluster, but she had no regrets; she quite enjoyed being unattached to any one person. Or secretly being attached to a very sparkly one. Who was kneeling in her tiny tent. And was looking at her very pointedly with one eyebrow quirked upward disbelievingly.

“I can think of several ways to tire you out.” He pushed forward, one arm on either side of her crossed legs and fisting in her loose blankets. “Would you like to hear them?” he all but purred.

“Jareth,” she whispered with as much seriousness as she could muster.

He chuckled softly at the look on her face. Her lips had parted just slightly so she could draw deeper breaths and her complexion flushed. His right hand came up to splay across her clavicle as his face softened into something almost sympathetic.

“Relax, Sarah.” His voice had turned gentle, with a touch of playfulness, as he carefully pushed her down toward her pillow.

She was a little wary, but she let him, unfolding her legs and sliding them under her covers as she went down. She was about to comment on his continued position hovering over her when he shifted back, bringing the blankets with him. He was goddamn _tucking her in_. The fae’s default with her was always dangerously flirtatious, but here he was ensuring her comfort in a cocoon of fabric.

He reached behind him blindly and turned off her light, dousing the tent in a blue-tinted darkness with only moonlight filtering in. He stretched out next to her on his side, propping himself with an elbow near her pillow. His expression was carefully neutral as he brought his free hand to his mouth and slowly tugged his glove, one finger at a time, until it slid off.

Sarah looked up at him with wary confusion. “This is more unsettling than your attempts at getting close to me.”

His head cocked to the side. “Attempts? Precious, that is one area I have succeeded. Several times, I might add.” He kept his voice low, always conscious of the company just across the fire ring outside. He respected her wish for him to remain a secret.

She had the good graces to nod at him in agreement.

He didn’t quite snuggle, but he moved close enough that she could feel his body heat and smell the Underground on him; the Labyrinth had such a distinct scent. He leaned over her slightly and brought his bare hand to her face. His middle finger skimmed across her skin lightly, tracing along her brow, down her temple to her jaw. His thumb briefly brushed her lips and her expression relaxed completely.

“We both know,” he began slowly, his fingers tracing the same path along her face over and over, “that you are in need of rest. Considering it is, at least in part, my doing, the least I can do is lend a hand.” Her mind was always moving a hundred miles per minute. He knew she would hear snickering in the shadows when she slept, and her dreams were often restless and sometimes troubling. Part of him felt remorse, as her experience as a teen was the catalyst, though it was hard to be full of regret when he had gained so much more of her for it.

“I sleep,” she protested through a yawn as her eyes started to feel heavy. It wasn’t a drugged effect, but felt rather natural. It was something she so rarely experienced.

He laughed softly. “You crash, my dear. Sleep finds you through heavy exhaustion, and even then it is not _restful_. Though, I must admit that I do enjoy the occasions I get to help you achieve such a state.” His grin was absolutely wicked.

Her attempt to glare at him was pathetically amusing, weighed down with drowsiness. She tried to smack at his chest, but her hand ended up doing little more than slowly sliding down his skin, catching at his shirt and landing on his still gloved wrist. His gentle stroking was hypnotizing, and she soon realized he was putting her to sleep. She managed to bring her hand up to lay heavily over his as he paused again along her jaw, her fingers very weakly gripping around his. They came to rest on the pillow in front of her and she made a last, feeble attempt to brush his hand against her lips.

“Not… fair,” she mumbled, taking one deep breath before drifting off.

He leaned close and whispered against her ear, “Oh dear, I wonder at your basis for comparison.”

She managed a smile as she felt his lips press firmly against the temple he’d been stroking, then a lighter kiss to each eyelid. Tonight he was her Sandman.

-

Sarah woke later than usual and felt more rested than she had in a long time. She quickly recalled the night’s events, and after a moment she looked around the tent to find it empty. On her pillow was a piece of parchment weighted down by a very precariously-balanced crystal.

_“ Sleep that knits up the ravelled sleave of care. The death of each day’s life, sore labor’s bath. Balm of hurt minds, great nature’s second course. Chief nourisher in life’s feast.”_

She smiled wryly at the elegant writing. “Well, I can add another thing to your list of neat tricks,” she mumbled to herself. As if hearing her speak, the crystal popped like a bubble, leaving a fine sprinkle of glitter behind.

As she moved to climb out of her tent and wake her undoubtedly-miserable companions, she couldn’t help but laugh as she overheard.

“ _How_ are you so awake right now, and will you _please_ hand me the Advil?” Jared grumbled miserably as he started making a pot of instant coffee.

“Search me,” Jolie shrugged. “I drank both of you under the table and have _no_ idea how I managed to avoid a hangover. It’s like magic.”


End file.
